


Mum

by starksparker



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Sweet, i write to cope with my own shit, it's only mentions of the abuse, kind, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 11:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12506900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksparker/pseuds/starksparker
Summary: You had a rough night of fighting with your drunk mother and end up at Stiles's front door.





	Mum

To say you've had a hell of a night would be an understatement. Your face is tear soaked, your hair disheveled, desperately needing a brush. You're cold, alone, and completely empty. The pouring rain, drenching you head to toe is only making you feel worse. It's the worst night you've had in forever which is why you find yourself standing outside an all too familiar doorstep.

"Y/n? What's wrong?" Stiles asks as he opens the door.

"Can I stay here, tonight?"

Stiles's brows knit together with concern as he lets the door open fully. "Of course. My dad is working late so it's just us. What happened?" He looks you up and down, resting his hands on your shoulders once the door is shut.

"I-uh, I just, it's raining." You avoid eye contact as your voice shakes and you lick your bottom lip.

"Yeah, it's raining." Stiles nods. "Alright, come on." He lets out a soft sigh. "We're gonna get you into some dry clothes and get that cut cleaned up, alright?" He rubs his thumb over your cheek, pulling it away to show the trail of crimson liquid.

Stiles drapes an arm around your shoulders while holding his other hand on the shoulder closest to him. It's as if he needs to have both hands on you in fear that if he lets go, you'll fall completely apart. Shatter into a thousand pieces.

He walks you to his room where he picks out a red t-shirt and blue plaid pajama pants. Both pieces of clothing are far too large for you but that just makes them comfier and they belong to Stiles which just makes you feel safe.

"You change and I'll get some stuff to clean the cut, yeah?" He says, grabbing a tissue and wiping the excess blood away again.

You nod and watch him leave hesitantly. You show up whenever things get bad but they have to be really bad and Stiles knows it. If you show up out of nowhere, late at night, something is wrong and he's all ears even if you don't want to talk.

Once you've changed, you rest your clothes neatly on top of his hamper and sit cross-legged on his bed, twiddling with your fingers. You rub the back of your hand against your cheek and notice the cut is still bleeding pretty bad. Maybe it's from all of the yelling or from the cold of the rain, but the cut didn't hurt. Everything was just numb.

"Alright, here we go." Stiles says, walking back into the room, his hands full of band-aids, gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and Neosporin. "Mom, again?" He asks, taking a seat beside you.

"Yeah." You hold your stare, not daring to look at the surely heartbroken boy.

"What happened?" Stiles wipes more blood away before pouring some of the disinfecting liquid into the cap.

"She got mad." You mumble.

"How'd you get cut?" He dips a Q-tip into the cap and starts dabbing it on the cut. The sound of bubbles hits your ears as it starts to tingle and cause a very light sting.

"Threw a bottle."

"She threw a bottle at you?" Stiles's voice holds pieces of breaking heart and anger.

You glance to him, not daring to let the look last. "Nah." You shake your head. "She threw a bottle and she's drunk. She was aiming for the picture frames."

"That's not okay, y/n." Stiles's voice grows stern as he allows the peroxide to sit on your cut.

"I know." You hang your head slightly with disappointment. "She felt really bad about it, started crying, begging me to stay." You let out a soft sigh, replaying the horrified look on your mom's face. "But, uh, it's time to tell your dad."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." You nod slowly, truthfully unsure. "I promised you that if something happened, I would tell your dad." Your mom didn't actually hurt you. Even when you were younger, she never spanked you. But, she did have a way with words when it came to you. All of them untrue and deep down you knew that but every now again, they'd get to you and you'd start believing them. She'd get drunk and throw things, her words would spill from her mouth like the tears that cascaded down your face. Those were the nights you came to Stiles. He made you promise that if you ever got hurt, accident or not, you would tell his dad.

"Do you want me to tell him with him?" Stiles offers, moving gauze to your face to dry the cut.

"Please." Your chin wrinkles as your heart falls and your eyes burn, ready for tears to start streaming.

"Okay. We'll tell him in the morning, okay?" He nods, putting a giant bandage over the cut.

"Yeah." You agree softly.

"My dad is gonna get her into a program and she'll get help." Stiles refers to your mom's drinking that started after your dad died a year prior.

"I know." You sigh, knowing your mom just needs professional help. Even if things don't go back to normal, she'll at least be getting help and that will help you. You know it's going to be hard and long, but it's for the best for the both of you. "Thanks, Stiles."

"Don't thank me." His voice is soft but scratchy. "Don't ever thank me for shit like this. This is what we do. We're there for each other, no matter what." He nods once, holding your head in his hands, minding your cut cheek. "And listen to me, alright?" You nod against his grasp. "All that shit she says, about you not being good enough, none of it's true. Sober or not."

"Thanks." You lean into one of his hands as your voice shakes.

"Okay, I'm gonna put your clothes in the washer and we're gonna try and get some sleep, alright?" He gets up slowly, not really wanting to leave you for even a few minutes.

"Yeah." You nod again as the softest weight is lifted.

Stiles makes you feel better but he isn't some superhero that just cures everything that's wrong. You still have problems and you're going to have problems after this night. But, for a few minutes, when his voice fills the air and you're not left to think alone, you feel just a little bit better. He helps distract you and then steers you into the right direction. He's not a cure, but he is a saving grace.


End file.
